


Artifactual

by TheAuthorGod



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean, Angel Dean Winchester, Angelic Lore, Archangel Castiel, Archangels, Canon Divergent as of 10.23, Cas does suffer for a bit, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Gen, Lotsa Different Kinds of Soulmates, M/M, People are in pain but they get better, Platonic Soulmates, Romantic Soulmates, Season 10 Ending, Semi-Fabricated Angel Lore, Soulmates, but it turns out happy and good, even i hate myself for making Cas suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAuthorGod/pseuds/TheAuthorGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Darkness is back, bringing the angels out of hiding.  Claire and Krissy are off on a scavenger hunt for an Angelic artifact that no one really understands, and Claire keeps having faint spells.  Cas, still suffering from whatever Rowena did to him, gets away from Crowley and tries to find his way to where he is needed.  Dean just hopes to find Cas so he can apologize for their last meeting, the time when he almost killed him.</p><p>{Straddling the line between serious!hunt!fic and crack!fic - Chapter 7 is especially 'cracky'; but, what would you expect if Gabriel ran the show for a bit?}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Before There Was

**Author's Note:**

> UNBETA'D. UNPROOF'D. UNEDIT'D. Story is mine; characters are not.
> 
> Tell me about blaring errors, otherwise... *shrugs*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lore behind it all.
> 
> I promise that all of the chapters are NOT like this one. :]

Before there was man, before there were animals or trees or oceans, before there was a floating rock in space of even a solar system, before there was lightness and darkness, God made a companion because God was lonely.  
  
God recognized that being alone was not as permissible as once thought, as had once been.  
  
So, God made his first angel, Lucifer. Created a light that couldn’t be put out. Made it, fashioned it, and put it inside a new type of being. God loved that light and that companion, and no longer felt as alone.  
  
But, Lucifer, could not always sense God. He could not always see or hear him for he was a mere creation and could not fathom the greatness of God at all moments.  
  
God noticed that Lucifer was lonely and God understood what being alone felt like; so, he made another angel. He made Raphael.  
  
The angels played and frolicked. They listened and obeyed God, and tended to squabble between themselves. They took to the nothingness with outstretched wings and toiled and rough-housed.  
  
After some time, though, the two angels, having exhausted millennia of platonic love, asked God if there was more to existence than this love.  
  
God wasn’t sure. He had never loved someone in any other way; but, he loved his two creations with all of the love that he had.  
  
So, God took it upon himself to create a new love.  
  
He made two other angels from the same sort. He made Michael and Gabriel.  
  
Lucifer fell madly in love with Michael. The same did not happen for Raphael or Gabriel or Michael though.  
  
Michael was quick and after his creation turned to his creator and asked, “When will you stop creating?” Michael realized that if God could make the four of them, then he could make many more.  
  
Lucifer insisted that they four of them were enough.  
  
But, now God had the idea of lots of friends, lots of companions, lots of things to share his existence with; so, he began to create.  
  
Having perfected the recipe for Michael and Lucifer, making a love that was not platonic in nature, God continued. He made many angels and, for every angel, he made a pair, another angel that would be their perfect other half. They would be exactly what the other would need.  
  
For many angels, this new love and this new one-half-ness worked. It worked especially well for two of God’s prized creations, his last two archangels. He often looked to the two of them to try and create the others.  
  
By then, the nothingness was filled with angels of all different types, Cupids to which God had added too much love and Seraphim that had too little. They all had a perfect pair, though, and God thought that it was good.  
  
God took a long deep rest before he returned to his creations.  
  
\---   
  
God loved his creations; but, Michael had another idea. He floated next to Lucifer, between his pair and God. “What will you do now that you have perfected the recipe for love and have rested?”  
  
Michael had an ill will in his being when he said this, though; he was thinking of himself. He was getting restless, tired of playing with his brothers, tired of the din that they were ebbing around in. “Perhaps you should make another creation; see if you can create this same love in something other than us.”  
  
God trusted Michael’s council and he thought that it would be good exercise.  
  
So, he began a new creation. Before he began, he collected his favorite and most powerful creations, 7 in total. He told them that he would entrust this new creation to them, that they were to care for it.  
  
Lucifer was most wary; he liked his existence the way that it was; he and his brothers and God.  
  
God began. He started by separating the light from the darkness. He gave dominion of the light to Lucifer; because he was God’s first creation from God’s first round of creating and light was God’s first creation in his second bout.  
  
Lucifer felt honored. Michael felt jealous. “What about me, Father? I am the one that gave you this idea.”  
  
God spoke to Michael, “I will give you what I will give you.”  
  
God continued. He gave darkness to one of his favorite angels, one of the angels’ whose love was great for his pair, Cassiel. Cassiel thanked him and shared with his pair what he could do.  
  
Seeing that Cassiel was sharing his new ability with his pair, Michael turned to Lucifer and demanded the same.  
  
Michael had never shown interest in Lucifer like this, so Lucifer showed him and took delight in the attention he received from his pair.  
  
God continued to create for 5 days, longer than he had for creating the angels.  
  
By then, the new creation was almost complete, on the sixth day God gifted Deannael dominion over the plants and life on earth. Deannael was entrusted with nurturing. when Deannael recieved his dominion, he turned to his pair, Cassiel, and shared back.  
  
While all of the other gathered angels had powers and were sharing them with their pairs, Michael was still powerless over the new creation that he had suggested to his father to make.  
  
He appealed to God again, “Am I not one of your beloved creations? Why have to skipped over me as you have?”  
  
God told him to be patient and yawned before continuing.  
  
Michael was angry, though, so he went to Lucifer and demanded that he have Lucifer’s powers. Lucifer was taken aback. He had been too happy to share and show his powers to his otherwise inattentive pair, but he could not just give away the gift that his father and longest friend had given him. He held onto it and refused.  
  
Michael could not be cajoled from his anger. He was rude and unresponsive to Lucifer from then on, and Lucifer felt alone all over again.  
  
God, having been completely focused on creation, turned back to Michael to offer his gift. Michael was more than happy to finally get such a responsibility. He flew forward in the new sky, eager.  
  
“I entrust you with the most important gift.” God gave him the gift of authority over the new free-willed beings of the new creation. “You will lead them when they are lost.”  
  
And then, on the seventh day, God rested, exhausted even more this time from his creation than when he created the angels. His final command was to love the humans and to cherish them. In God’s rest, he watched and breathed over his newest creation.  
  
The angels had trouble with their new responsibility; they had never had something this important put on them before. They often made mistakes and Lucifer or Michael often ended up fixing them, being the oldest and knowing most of what God would want.  
  
Lucifer struggled with loving humanity, for he loved his pair and God with all of his being and shared well regard for his fellow angels. He often wondered if he was broken, because he was the first creation, the rough draft – it might be said.  
  
It did not take long for Michael to realize that his power of authority did not only work on the primitive earth-dwellers but on angels as well, and he began to abuse his power. Soon, all of the angels did as he commanded, as if he were God.  
  
All listened to him except Lucifer, for a dominion did not work on one’s pair.  
  
Lucifer begged him to stop. “You are not God,” he said, “You should not be commanding our brothers like this.”  
  
Michael responded, “Shouldn’t I? They did not love creation as God commanded, so I commanded them. They did not wield their dominion correctly, so I commanded them. I am only ensuring God’s will.”  
  
“You are not letting them learn.” Lucifer argued. “They need to make mistakes and learn, otherwise they will never be able to do it without command.”  
  
“They will not need to. I will always be here to command them.”  
  
“That job is for God and God alone.”  
  
“In God’s stead, I will command them. They will love and cherish the creation.”  
  
“There is nothing to love and cherish about it except free will, which you have deprived them of. All we are is commanded and we obey, but it is God who speaks the orders.”  
  
“Everyone obeys except you.”  
  
By now, other angels were taking notice of the spat. They were being shaken free from their hold by Michael and they were listening.  
  
Lucifer spoke again, calm and collected. “We do not need to obey for the sake of obeying; we need to learn to obey ourselves and to obey through love, love of our father.”  
  
Rebutting, Michael yelled, “I have never loved anything!”  
  
And that was the beginning of the Great War. Angel pairs turned against one another in battle. They fought over dominions. Michael commanded his armies and Lucifer riled his with speech and love and respect.  
  
The war was long; long enough for God to have truly completed the mission in earth. Mankind was discernible from the primitive creatures, pulling away from the animals and taking after Michael – commanding the other living things on earth.  
  
Michael did not love, or, at least, he didn’t think that he did. He commanded his armies to fight to the death, and the slaughtering of their brethren broke Lucifer.  
  
To end the war, Lucifer fell; with him, he took his light and blazed the way for other angels to follow. Other angels followed him to another place.  
  
With the light gone, the Darkness rose and coiled. It took all of the power of Cassiel and his pair together to reign it in and control it. Cassiel would have fits and sicknesses, Deannael would feel them, too. There was no light to balance his dominion, the Darkness.  
  
Not caring where Lucifer had gone or what damage it may have caused, Michael rejoiced in his victory, alone.  
  
Many pairs of angels were broken. Some were split. Other’s halved by the blood spilled in battle.  
  
After many years, the remaining angels felt a new need for connection and began to pair off, again. The pairs that had survived helped. Cassiel and Deannael aided in the effort as best they could, but the Darkness was often more of a pressing matter than their brethren.  
  
Michael always resented Cassiel and Deannael. He always resented the new pairs. He sometimes commanded them apart or assigned them far away from each other in his jealousy.  
  
Michael had never realized just how much the abiding love of Lucifer did for him until it was gone and he was lonely. He was a lonely being with the God-like ability to command.  
  
Michael did not rest, though; he plotted.


	2. GNO - Girls' Night Out

Claire stared down at her burger. She hadn’t gotten one in a long time; they had always reminded her of her father and that was never fun. Recently, though, she’d come to terms with the idea that her father was a hero and that Cas had been a necessary being in all the events that had come to pass. So, she smiled a small smile at the burger. It was like taking flowers to a grave for her; especially because her father had no grave.  
  
“So, we’re almost there.” Krissy sat across the table with a map splayed out. Sherriff Mills had told them that they could go on a road trip. They all knew that ‘road trip’ was a nicer way of saying ‘hunt’. They didn’t hunt as much as the Winchesters or Jody and Donna; but, they were still allowed to gank some monsters every once in a while.  
  
They had met on a few salt and burns. Both thought the other was an amateur and ended up stepping all over each other’s toes. Since then, they’d been nearly inseparable, taking cases and monster hunts from the internet and local papers and news.  
  
This time, though, it wasn’t a monster hunt.  
  
Taking a big bite of her burger, Claire smirked around the taste, just like she remembered it. It wasn’t one of her dad’s homemade burgers; but, it would do. She swallowed then glanced over at the newspapers that they’d brought in from the car. “You mean that we’re almost to the storage facility. We have no idea where it is after that.” She flicked at one of the newspapers, making it flutter across the table toward Krissy.  
  
Slapping down on the paper to stop its annoying journey, Krissy squinted over the map. “I dunno, I have a good feeling about this one.” She looked back to the map.  
  
“You had a good feeling about the last one too.” She slid her foot forward under the table so that her toes would nudge Krissy’s.  
  
They had been chasing down this thing for almost a week. It had begun when Claire got a request for it from an online source request. She got into the business of artifact research. Hunters would peruse her site for an object and get the information that they needed. She got a few dweebs every once in a while trying to stir up trouble; but, for the most part she was a recognizable and verifiable hunting resource. ‘Winchester Approved’ was stamped on the upper left-hand side of her site. Luckily, none of the other hunters knew she was only 18.  
  
The email was printed out and on the table, too. Claire wiped her hands on her jeans and sifted through the papers for it. She was usually more organized than this; but, Krissy wasn’t organized ever. The mess they were dealing with was a compromise.  
  
Locating the message, Claire put it in front of her and picked up a fry with her other hand. Krissy took a fry off of her plate, too. Claire rolled her eyes before reading over the note again.  
  
A wave of nausea and a spiking head ache punched through Claire. She brought the hand, still holding a french fry, to her forehead and pressed her knuckles to her brow. The words on the page swirled. She’d been having these sorts of spells lately. Once, she spent an entire week trying to translate a single Enochian verse on a sword that had been sent to her in three pictures – every time she looked at it the letters had spun and curled and a headache had bloomed.  
  
Krissy reached a hand out and held Claire’s forearm in concern.  
  
When the headache passed, Claire blinked back at Krissy and offered a small smile. She patted the hand to let her know she was okay then returned to the note.  
  
The message was rather unassuming:  
  
“I am looking into an object, a metal sphere with Enochian inscriptions on the outside. It seems to be a vessel of some kind. I saw it in passing at a pawn shop in Lawrence, Kansas. I didn’t get it at the time; but, I was wondering what it could be. You seem to have very accurate descriptions and information on angel-related mystical objects.”  
  
It was from someone with the username Kyra and it came with three pictures. Claire dug those out of the stack and looked at them too.  
  
Krissy’s food came and she had to set the map to the side. She had asked for chicken wings and nachos. She really was a messy person. She dug in, getting hot sauce all over her hands and sour cream on her nose.  
  
Claire laughed and reached across the table to wipe it off with a napkin.  
  
\---  
  
Dean ran a finger down the sweating side of the beer bottle. He wasn’t entirely sure why his brother had offered to get him one out of nowhere. They both knew that he’d been drinking less since the mark had been removed. Staring at it, he realized that he may not even be able to finish this one beer.  
  
Glancing over at his brother, he looked him over.  
  
Sam was looking good. His hair was too long and his shirts were fucking pressed and shit; but, that was typical Sam.  
  
They were pouring over the books for anything about the darkness. Most of the things that came up on the internet were about Genesis and the Creation story, when God separated the light and the dark. It was fucking annoying; so, they were stuck doing it the old way – the book way.  
  
As much as Dean hated research, he knew that it was the only way that they could even hope to deal with their newest opponent. It wasn’t like they could shoot darkness or hit it over the head. They needed to know what they were dealing with.  
  
Dean flipped the page. “So, you got anything?” He leaned back in his chair and played with his open bottle of beer. He didn’t want to drink it; but, he had to do something with his fingers.  
  
“Nothing more than the last time you asked.” Sam flicked a glare in his older brother’s direction. “Do you know anything? I mean, the stuff was possessing you for a while. What was it?” Sam ran a hand through his hair, effectively pushing it out of his face.  
  
Needing to stretch, Dean stood and walked around to the shelves on the opposite side of the table. “No, man, I mean, it was hot. Not like that.” He ran his finger over the books. It was nice to look at them. His vision was no longer tinted dark at the edges, no longer infuriatingly blurry.  
  
Across the room, Dean’s cell phone rang. Thinking that it could be Cas, he hurried to it. When he reached it and saw the name ‘Claire’, he tried not to be upset. He hadn’t heard from Cas and he wanted nothing more than to apologize. They’d been through a lot of shit; but, the more that Cas avoided his calls and the bunker, the more he thought that it was the last straw. And that weighed on him.  
  
“Heya.” Dean ran his fingers through the book pages, flopped open on the table in front of him.  
  
There was rustling on the other end. “Dean.” It was Krissy, not Claire.  
  
Checking his phone to make sure that he’d read it correctly, Dean frowned at the name ‘Claire’. With worry in his voice, he spoke, “Krissy. Where’s Claire?”  
  
Hearing that, Sam stood and approached. A look of concern tugged at his eyebrows and the ends of his lips.  
  
“She’s not feeling good.” He could hear the sound of pages rustling through the phone. “We’re on the tail of a mystical object and we have a problem.”  
  
Dean licked his lips. He hated it when one of his people was sick. “What’s up?”  
  
“This item has been requested by two different people.” There were more papers moved in the background. “About a week ago, a woman contacted us called Kyra. She wants us to obtain and investigate the item then give it to her; but, last night, someone else asked for it. Anonymously, we were asked to get the, and I quote, ‘highly combustible and enchanted’ item, not to mess with it or investigate it in any way, and turn it over to him to investigate it.” She sighed. “What do we do?”  
  
Sam went to say something; but, Dean waved a hand over him. Dean spoke into the phone, “What do you think you should do?” They had to start doing this on their own. He owed them; had to teach them as much as he needed to help them. He wanted them to be able to do this once he was gone.  
  
“I don’t know.” Krissy sounded completely frazzled.  
  
That was when Dean realized how affected she was by everything. “How’s Claire?”  
  
It took a while for Krissy to respond. “She keeps having dizzy spells. She’s having headaches that stop her from researching. She’s sleeping now.” There was a hint of fondness under the last part. “I just want her to be okay.”  
  
“I know; and, she will be.” Dean let that hang, sit in the air and make its way into Krissy’s brain. “Now, take a deep breath.” He waited for the audible breath. “Now, what do you think you should do about these two collectors?” He glanced over to Sam.  
  
Sam’s expression looked more impressed than anything else. He nodded in response to Dean’s look.  
  
“I think that we need to collect the item carefully. Pull out all the stops, maybe even call Jody out to help.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Then what?”  
  
“We can’t just give the item to someone without knowing anything; so, we conduct preliminary analysis, enough so that we know what we’re dealing with.” She breathed. “Thanks, Dean.” Suddenly, she sounded exhausted.  
  
“And, Krissy?” Dean turned away from Sam.  
  
Sam made a noise at him; but, Dean ignored him.  
  
“Have you heard from Cas? You or Claire? Anything?” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He just wanted Cas to be okay. Maybe they couldn’t be friends anymore, maybe they couldn’t be – whatever – but, he wanted Cas to be alive and well.  
  
The phone moved, picked up by someone else. “He texted me last week.” Claire sounded tired, too.  
  
“What did he say?” Dean winced at himself. He should have asked how Claire was. “And, uh, how are you doing?”  
  
Claire laughed at him lightly. “I’ll be fine. Just a little sick. It’s probably a ‘girl thing’.”  
  
Sam, where he had leaned in to hear the phone over Dean’s shoulder, grimaced. Dean didn’t. Sometimes, Dean wondered how Jess and Sam had lived together.  
  
“He said to stay safe, just like you tell me all the time.”  
  
Dean could almost hear her eye roll.  
  
Continuing, Claire reassured him, “You guys have gone through worse from what I can tell. I’m sure that you’ll have to work together again.”  
  
Sighing, Dean tried not to let the ever growing sense of defeat overtake him. “I hope you’re right.”  
  
\---  
  
Cas had never felt the way he felt at that moment. His wings were hot and felt like they were overdue for a molting. He was cold and hot all at once. His vessel felt like it had too much room in it, like he was rattling around just inside the skin.  
  
Apart of him wanted to go home, had an overwhelming urge to go home; but, he didn’t know where that was. He had no home. He was a wanderer.  
  
Rowena’s spell must have done this to him, must have broken was what left of his grace. His battery hadn’t been at full charge anyway.  
  
He grinned a little at the thought of his ‘angel battery’; it was something that Dean would say. He missed his human. His wings thrashed wildly at the thought of Dean and his arms shook before wrapping around his torso in an effort to not hurt himself. Dean wasn’t his human anymore.  
  
He looked up at the vent in the roof. He had hidden himself away in the panic room at Bobby’s old house. It was broken and rusting and the hinges on the door sounded like an angel’s true voice when he forced them to move; but, he felt as close to calm as he seemed to be able to get in those enchanted walls. He reached out with a jittery wing and ran his longest feathers over the sigils in the wall.  
  
The room smelled like Winchester. It helped.  
  
NO. His body throbbed and his head felt like it was splitting in two. He was scared and alone. He couldn’t go to Claire; she would be afraid of him, or worse, afraid for him. He couldn’t go to the angels; then would just rewire him again and he didn’t want that. He had come to realize that he must have been ‘reset’ numerous times by then.  
  
He shivered.  
  
He couldn’t go to Jody because she’d contact the Winchesters. And he definitely couldn’t go to the Winchesters. Sam would get a concerned puppy-dog look and Dean… well, Dean…  
  
He didn’t know where he stood with Dean. He wished he did. He was angry at him, yes; but, he also knew that Dean would go to the ends of the earth to help him. He knew that the only way that Dean had been able to stop himself from killing Cas when he had the mark must have been because he cared for Cas deeply.  
  
He knew that; yet, there he sat, a coward.  
  
Another spasm wracked through his body. He ended up hitting one of his elbows against the metal and he cried out, silently. He felt worse than when the Leviathans had taken their hold. He felt worse than when Lucifer’s games had played out in his head. He felt worse than when he had played God.  
  
He pulled his arms closer around himself, willing the pain to go away.  
  
He wanted Dean.  
  
Like a little kid yearning for a kiss and hug good night, he wanted Dean.  
  
But, instead he had Dean’s scent and his dried blood – along with his brothers’ – in an iron, sigil-carved panic room in Sioux Falls.


	3. In Vain

Claire was a bit wobbly; but, their sources said that the object’s trade was going down just through the hedge within the half hour and Claire insisted that she was alright.  
  
Peeking out, Krissy could see that one party had already showed up. A man in a black suit and tie was standing with his arms crossed. His red tie was smudge with something dark; he paced lumbering around all tall and burly. Krissy didn’t like him. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”  
  
“None of this was; but, we’re committed now.” Claire was sweating a little at her temples and she was breathing heavier than strictly necessary or suggested when trying to remain hidden in a hedge. She had her pistol loaded and in a loose grip. She was fading in and out of a dream.  
  
_Everything was bright and warm. It reminded her of the tropics; but, really it was more than that. It was a perfect place. Two large doors stood ahead of her; she was nervous to step through them. Just when she got up the courage to reach for the golden door handle, the door opened and something lit in the door way._  
  
_That something literally ‘lit’ there. It was a being formed of pure white light. “The punishment has been dealt with.” It spoke in a deep voice._  
  
_“What do you mean?” Claire felt, in a dream-like way, that she was the one speaking; but, had no control over it; and, it sounded much deeper than her own voice._  
  
_The being came closer. As it did, she was able to discern wings on its back and a plethora of heads. The one that looked most like an owl spoke with its beak. “Your commander has taken the brunt of your punishment.”_  
  
_A horrible feeling of ‘wrong wrong wrong wrong’ trilled through Claire. “He couldn’t have. I was the one at fault; why would you even consider to transfer-”_  
  
_“He pleaded for you and then pleaded guilty on your behalf.” The being spread its wings and took flight._  
  
Claire felt the overwhelming sense of falling, before she felt like she was caught, snug in her body like a baseball to a glove. She had a headache pulsing though her forehead and her hand around the gun was shaking. Blinking her eyes open, surprised, at first, that it was dark out, she saw that Krissy was definitely worried.  
  
Cut off by a car pulling up, Krissy didn’t get to voice her concerns. Instead, he leaned up into a crouch and waited, watching the car with wide eyes.  
  
Without energy, Claire remained leaned against the fence. She turned her head only enough to train her still foggy eyes toward the newcomers.  
  
A man dressed in a driver’s uniform emerged from the driver’s door and circled the car. He opened the door for a young man with blond hair and a lopsided grin. “Hello, I’m glad that you felt the need to be punctual.”  
  
Red Tie growled. “I see that you did not feel the same.” He stood with all of his bulk pulling at his suit. Claire was afraid for a long moment that the seams of the suit may bust, especially up at the neck and collar.  
  
The blonde man rolled his eyes. “I am so sorry that your black market deal is running a few minutes behind; do you have another to go to after?”  
  
Growling more, Red Tie turned and picked up a satchel from the ground. From it, he retrieved a red velvet, drawstring bag. Opening it, he rolled down the sides of the bag so that the other man could see. Krissy and Claire could see too. It was the Enochian marked ball that they had been searching for.  
  
Krissy coiled to pounce; but, Claire shot out a hand to hold her back; they had to wait until everything was clear. They didn’t even know anything about the object yet. If they were lucky, the two men would talk about it.  
  
No such luck, though.  
  
“Good.” The younger one nodded and reached into his suit jacket for a check or something; but, within a flash, he had retrieved an angel blade and thrown it like a spear at the other man. It punctured the man clear through.  
  
Claire was beginning to grasp the entire sentiment that Krissy had voice earlier; this hadn’t been a good idea.  
  
Striding across the small distance, the man drew the drawstrings closed on the velveteen bag, still in the dead man’s grasp then pulled his blade from the other man.  
  
The driver hadn’t blinked an eyelash over the entire sight. “But, sir, he was only a human.”  
  
The man wiped the angel blade on the other man’s red tie, the two reds blended together well. “He was in a hurry to make it back to his mistress before heading home to his wife. I am quite certain that he deserved this.” He stood. “Alright, girls, you should come out; so that we can chat.” He turned toward the hedges.  
  
Suddenly, Claire sprang to life, adrenaline surging forward and through her. She and Krissy popped up and bolted; but, how would they outrun an angel? That didn’t matter yet; at the time, all Claire could think was ‘Run’.  
  
\---  
  
Screeching sounds came from outside the panic room. They were not the sounds of angelic voices; they sounded ancient. The little bit of sunlight that had been peeking in through the grate above blacked out. Cas stood up and pulled his wings into his back, poised to fight, poised to defend himself.  
  
As long as it isn’t Dean.  
  
Another wave of pain trilled through him and he doubled over like he was punched in the stomach. Whatever spell had been cast was doing its damage and Cas wasn’t sure of its endgame. He growled and dug the tips of his fingers into the softer flesh of his stomach, begging the pain to cease.  
  
After a few achingly long moments, the pain did rest; but, by that time, the darkness had begun to seep in through the vent in the roof. It was yelling and churning, fuming.  
  
He pivoted to the door and tried to will it open with his grace. He could not. His grace was so damaged and depleted that the door would not budge. He almost resigned himself to staying in the darkness.  
  
When he went to sit back down, criss-cross on the floor, a jolt sweep through him and Claire called for him in spirit. Without a thought to it, he spread his wings and took off, in search of his charge.  
  
\---  
  
It was dumb to run from an angel. There really wasn’t anywhere to go. It was one of those things that sounds good when you’re sitting in a hedge back up against a wall; but, feels worse when you’re running down another alley way, possibly the same one again.  
  
The angel couldn’t possibly be that slow. Angels were instantaneous flying rapid and with ease.  
  
Krissy was panting and starting to lag; but, Claire grabbed her by the wrist and pushed more. She needed help. She couldn’t call Dean or Sam; she’d have to stop or slow down. She wasn’t even sure if her voice would work.  
  
That really only left one other viable option. In the moment that she decided to try to call Cas to them, he appeared. He looked ragged. Blood was stained under his eyes in almost-halos and his cheeks were hollower than they were supposed to be.  
  
She stopped dead in front of him and Krissy took the opportunity to rest her hands on her knees and pant curses at the ground.  
  
“What happened to you?” Claire reached out to touch Cas’ cheek; but, he turned his face away at the last second, eyes tuned to something beyond Claire.  
  
Turning around, Claire backed herself into Cas, seeking the protection she felt with him.  
  
“Hello, little brother.” The man who had been chasing them seemed almost out of breath, it was weird to see an angel out of breath.  
  
Castiel slid between the two girls before stand in front of them both, putting himself between them and the danger. “Michael, how did you get out of the cage?”  
  
The man tucked the angel blade into his suit jacket and smiled Cheshire wide and just as feral. “What do you think held the darkness at bay? It had been locked in the pit with Lucifer.”  
  
“So were you.” Cas’ voice was gruffer than it was supposed to be, too. It worried Claire. She reached forward and wrapped her fist in his trench coat. Cas looked the man up and down. “Yet here you are.”  
  
“I am.”  
  
Cas jerked heavily. His shoulders shuddered and his knees wobbled. “Don’t you dare use that phrase. Not after what you have done.”  
  
“Castiel, you do not look well; are you sure that you could fight me?” Michael smirked.  
  
Broadening his stance, Castiel suck into his knees, taking on a steady position ready to strike. “And you are slow, brother. Do you want to test it?”  
  
Standing up straighter and adjusting his suit, Michael nodded. “Then good day, Castiel. May you stay on the correct side of this fight.” And with that, Michael vanished.  
  
Claire let out a relieved breath and Krissy had just caught hers. “Thank god. I thought we were going to die.” Krissy reached out an arm and placed it on Claire’s shoulder, squeezing it, and then laughing. “We’re alive.”  
  
Trench coat billowing, Castiel turned. “Do not be relieved; yet, this fight isn’t over. He left without a fight; he is still gaining strength. He is planning something.” Castiel flicked his analytical gaze all around, checking for trouble in every direction, repeatedly.  
  
“How do you know?” Claire’s hand was still wrapped in a part of Cas’ coat; she gently detangled them. She looked over Cas.  
  
Moving his gaze back to Claire, Cas’ rigid manner seeped out of him. He looked more like the goofy angel that she’d been getting used to being around. “I know my brothers. Michael has never been known to lay in wait without a plan.” He brushed a thumb over her face. “Stay safe, okay?”  
  
She rolled her eyes; but, a warmth bloomed in her chest. “I will.”  
  
“I mean it.” Cas’ gaze took on a hard edge, like the blue in his eyes went from warm summer day to the tundra. “Go to the bunker. Be safe.” He turned to leave.  
  
“You should come with us.” The words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. She wanted her family together again; this broken family that was as good as she could get. “They miss you.”  
  
Cas didn’t turn and didn’t look at her. Instead, he seemed to listen, then ignore, then walk away into the alley way like it never happened.  
  
\---  
  
_“What is the meaning of this?” Dean stormed into what looked like a courtroom but the dimensions were off. The judge’s podium extended so high that he could not see the top of it. If he were to guess, he’d say that it extended beyond the clouds above._  
  
_Other than that, the room was typical, except no one was there other than a single light being. It was shimmering; and, when Dean stormed toward him, it seemed to take a new form. It had numerous heads; one was an owl, another a bull, another a cobra. Dean couldn’t see them all at once, like when someone stares at something glow in the dark, it isn’t as bright as when one looks away._  
  
_Dean brought up a hand to poke the being in the center of its torso. He was totally at ease with the strangeness, as if it were not strange at all. “Cas has done nothing wrong.” He yelled. “Why are you punishing him?”_  
  
_“He has harmed the humans.” The owl head spoke. “He will be tried and punished.” The bull head continued._  
  
_Shaking his head, Dean couldn’t agree. Cas was a bit eccentric, not always understanding; but, he was not a killer. He did not do any crimes. “What are you accusing him of?” Dean shook his head more. “Nevermind, doesn’t matter.” He rushed his words. “I’d like to take his place.”_  
  
Dean was awoken by his phone. It wasn’t the alarm sound but the sound of a phone call. He cleared his throat and swallowed around the dry he found there. Reaching out, he tapped his phone and squinted at the intense light that it emitted. He couldn’t read the screen; so, he aimed and jabbed the green button to accept the call. “Hello?”  
  
“Hi, Dean?” It was Jody.  
  
Relieved, Dean breathed out; but, then it occurred to him that this was more likely about Claire and Krissy than a personal call at, he glanced over to the clock, three-thirty in the morning. He jolted away and sat up in bed. “What’s wrong with Claire?”  
  
A short laugh came through rough on the line. “I don’t know why people think you’re some grunt; you’re quicker than a priest even at hells’o’clock in the morning.” She laughed again.  
  
It put Dean at ease. Jody wouldn’t be laughing if things were really bad. She’d be worried and her wording would be clipped. “Flattery does nothing.” Dean smiled.  
  
“The girls are on their way to you. It won’t be until tomorrow morning; they’re at a motel now.” She groaned.  
  
Dean could picture her pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut.  
  
Donna said something the background; but, Dean couldn’t hear it. Jody began to speak, again. “The object gave them some trouble. Some angel had it, or got it, or – honestly, it took all of my mom skills to get that much out of them. They’re good though and on their way.” She sighed. “I wanted to give you the heads-up. I probably should have waited until the morning.” She sounded frustrated and tired.  
  
Licking his lip, Dean tried to lighten the mood. “No, it’s good. This way I can show the ladies out before Claire and Krissy get a load of what the Winchester Charm really does.”  
  
Laughing again, Jody barked into the microphone and therefore into Dean’s ear.  
  
Despite wincing at the sheer volume, Dean’s mouth pulled into a small grin.  
  
“Good night, Dean.” Jody hung up.  
  
Throwing his phone back on the bed, Dean grabbed his forehead. Worrying about Jody and the girls had kept his tired brain busy enough to not realize the headache seizing behind his eyes. When he opened them again, the words on his Led Zeppelin poster swirled and he could no longer read it. Chalking it up to being almost four am, he rolled over, probably onto his phone, and tried to go back to sleep.


	4. She

When Claire woke, it was from Krissy shaking her. She wasn’t on the bed anymore and the lights were dimming and flashing above. She pushed herself up from the ill-cared-for motel rug and gasped in a breath of air. The lights evened and her knuckles turned white holding onto herself hoping to ground herself.  
  
Krissy backed away, settling herself onto her haunches. She relaxed into herself, her butt setting down on her feet where she was kneeling next to Claire. “This is not okay, Claire.” She was scared, not mad or upset; she was terrified. It showed in her tight pupils and her thin, quivering lips.  
  
Squeezing her hands impossibly tighter, Claire put all of her fear into the single gesture before forcing her fingers to loosen and extend. She regulated her heavy breathing. The clock read that it was only five am; but, if they got out now, they’d have an almost two hours alone on the road. No idiot drivers trying to get somewhere mundane. “Well, if we leave now, we should be able to get to the bunker before lunch.” She scrambled up and pulled her decisions for that day’s outfit from her duffle.  
  
“If we leave now, we’ll be there before breakfast.” Krissy complained.  
  
Claire pushed a fist into her hip and turned to Krissy. “Yeah, and I want some of Dean’s pancakes. Now, hurry up.” She turned back to her clothes and stroked a finger over the stuffed cat in her bag. It reminded her of Cas and how closed off he had been the night before.  
  
It worried her. If Cas was going off the deep end, they needed to help; but, he wasn’t letting them. She sighed and scratched behind one of the plushie’s ears; it calmed her.  
  
By the time she and Krissy were packing the car, a headache was beginning to wedge its way into her forehead. She handed the keys to Krissy and dug the Aleve from her bag.  
  
“I’m thinking that those medications will not help.”  
  
Both girls jumped and turned to see a woman standing behind them. She wore a cocktail dress and her red-auburn hair settled in waves on her chest and shoulders. Krissy pulled the angel sword from Claire’s half-open bag and brandished it at the woman.  
  
“That will not help either.” The woman made no move to defend herself. “Let’s make a covenant.”  
  
Claire glared for a long moment before responding with the sass that had permanently moved into her voice box. “Excuse me?” She turned and took a shoulder-width stance.  
  
Dainty eyebrows pulled together at the center of her face, the mysterious woman smushed her pink glossed lips together. She seemed to search for the word. “Deal,” she said almost to herself. She turned her wandering eyes back to the girls. “A deal. Let’s make a deal.”  
  
“That’s what I thought.” Claire glowered and pulled her lips to one side. “We don’t deal with your kind.” She turned and popped the pill in her mouth. She swallowed it with an exaggerated tilt of her head.  
  
Krissy still held the sword in defense just beyond Claire’s back. It was the only reason that Claire could remain so nonchalant. She was guarded by someone as brutal as Krissy. Krissy had beheaded vampires, two at a time; when she wielded the angel sword, she was a force to be reckoned with.  
  
“I mean you no harm.” The woman held up her hands in a surrender. “I mean only to help.”  
  
“Oh yeah,” Claire bobbed her chin in a defiant gesture, “prove it.”  
  
\---  
  
Cas’ skin either felt too tight or too loose, too hot or too cold, too heavy or too light. His mind spun. He wasn’t sure why everything was so blurry; was it his perception or were his eyes failing?  
  
Angel radio was silent, deathly silent. He had either blocked it out or it had left him. There was no way that the angels, the loose-lipped, smart-assed angels, were actually silent; that there was no gossip about the return of Michael in the youngest Winchester.  
  
He worried, behind the pain and sweat, he worried.  
  
Somewhere behind all of this also sat the wondering and fear surrounding the question of Lucifer. If Michael had returned, surely Lucifer was close behind.  
  
They couldn’t do this.  
  
His brain whirred around that for a moment.  
  
Around ‘they’.  
  
He wanted to go to Dean. He wanted the sense of implausible safety that came with the eldest Winchester. It wasn’t like the enemies got smaller or the feats became less great; it was simply that Cas felt calmer and bigger around him.  
  
Like he was a force worth fearing. He hadn’t felt that powerful as the leviathan filled the gaping hole in his grace. He hadn’t felt that as the visions of Lucifer coiled there. He only ever felt it when he was in the same room as Dean Winchester.  
  
The darkness was coming again, for him. It was like it was following him. Perhaps, he had been around the Winchesters much too often; because, trouble could now sniff him from states away.  
  
Ahead of the darkness, he felt a presence; wings stirring the air in a different way, tiny tornados leading the darkness. He braced for the onslaught.  
  
“Cassie, hurry, we must keep you moving.”  
  
Opening his blurred eyes, Cas could make out the image of Gabriel. His face betrayed no humor. Cas swallowed. “I am hallucinating.”  
  
Gabriel smirked. “Hallucination or not, the big bad brothers are back and we need to get to home-base before we lose this game of hide-and-seek.” He hauled on Cas’ arm, pulling his brother to a wobbly stance. “Come on, little brother, you know the rules; they count, we hide, then they chase us until they tag us. Last one caught loses.”  
  
“I’ve already lost.” Cas tried to swallow around the dryness of his throat.  
  
Gabe shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He hefted his brother to his side. “Can you fly at all?”  
  
Head dropping forward in defeat and exhaustion, Cas shook his head. “I cannot.”  
  
“Then, I guess we’ll be riding in style.” Gabe snapped and a 1968 AMC Ambassador appeared. “I even got your favorite color.” He helped Cas over to the passenger side door and snapped, putting himself in the driver’s seat. “Let’s ride.”  
  
Cas didn’t have the energy to argue.  
  
\---  
  
Dean knew he was supposed to be researching; but, he couldn’t bring himself to think. He’d gotten to the library. When he had woken, at quite too early in the morning, he’d emerged from his room and gotten as far as the comfy chairs in the bunker’s library.  
  
More than once had the idea of sliding the second plush chair ahead of him and putting his feet up crossed his mind; but, he couldn’t muster up the energy to do much more than think briefly about it.  
  
A splitting headache was echoing in his skull. Sometimes, when he was about to fall into sleep or at least a state of lucid dreaming, a flash of bright white light would scare him back into his annoyed and slightly pained consciousness. The biggest annoyance each time, though, was the fact that the white flash was so comforting. It was a relief from the headache.  
  
“So, were you up all night researching?” Sam lumbered in from the kitchen.  
  
With only one eye opened a sliver, Dean could see that Sam was wearing his joggers. “Leave me alone and go practice your strange witchcraft.”  
  
Sam flipped his hair off of his forehead and eyes, sending a bitchface Dean’s way. “You know, jogging and exercise are good for your lungs and heart.”  
  
“Well, I’m pretty sure mine are doing grape impressions already so hop on out. I have a killer headache.” He pinched at the bridge of his nose and turned in the chair a little. The shift sent a flare of pressure into his skull from near his ear; he groaned and froze. The tense in his muscles didn’t help, though.  
  
Having shut his eyes completely, Dean had to listen close to figure out what Sam was doing. He shifted his feet and his hands clapped together gently. “Do you want me to get you some pills or something?”  
  
Dean groaned again. “No.”  
  
It was so silent that Dean could hear Sam swallow his concern. “Are you sure; because I can get you-?”  
  
“If you really want to, go grab me some damn drugs, then go away.” He gritted his teeth only to find that it hurt worse.  
  
Sam retreated then returned. This time, he had the mind not to say anything; instead, he pressed the pills into Dean’s open palm and a glass of water into the other. Dean ignored the water and swallowed the pills dry.  
  
Huffing, Sam placed the cup on a nearby table and left again, probably to go do his jog. Dean shivered at the thought of jogging. The shiver encouraged his headache to flare up.  
  
When the pills kicked in, it made Dean sleepy instead of alleviating the headache. He didn’t want to fall asleep, he wanted to be awake for when the girls arrived; but, this time when the white flash filled his mind, the drugs lulled him behind it instead of immediately waking him back up again.  
  
_“You take this punishment upon yourself?” The being of light was standing ahead of him yet again in the courtroom._  
  
_Dean swallowed and tried to follow the white-gold molding of the judge’s chair into the clouds. “I am.”_  
  
_The being, having many heads, spoke with all. “Your sentence has been decided. You shall seal the garden after man has left.” The light glowed brighter for a moment before dissipating back to its usual amount._  
  
_Narrowing his eyes, Dean growled. “That is your job, Michael, not mine.” He scrunched his nose up. “You are the one that is supposed to seal the garden after man has received the gift of free will. It is your responsibility as their guardian.”_  
  
_The bull head spoke. “I am in charge. You will seal the garden.”_  
  
_“This is not how God wanted this to happen. Man is God’s newest and most beloved creation. You cannot punish them so harsh. God will not approve.” Dean growled. He wanted nothing to do with this._  
  
_“God is nothing but a breath and a snore. I have been given the responsibility to steer the humans. I choose how to steer them, not you.”_  
  
_“This is Lillith all over again.” Dean stormed to the other side of the courtroom. “You will estrange all of the humans of each other; you’ve already divided their species.” He was furious, white-hot._  
  
_Michael stood still, unmoving. “I am teaching.”_  
  
_“It is not your place to teach the humans.”_  
  
_Striding over to Dean, Michael leaned into his face, fury painting the features of all of his heads and faces, the bull’s nostrils flared. “I am teaching you!”_  
  
_Dean felt a shot of super-chilled grace shoot down his spine. His free-will torn from him, forced down into something less than angelic. He was confused and needed guidance, lost, without any idea of what to do._  
  
_With his free-will stolen, he needed orders. He looked to Michael for them._  
  
_Drawing away, Michael seemed pleased. “Now, you will seal the garden.”_  
  
_“I will.”_  
  
_Dean turned to take off; but, from behind him there was a loud sound at the doors, as if someone was trying to enter. Like how light can filter through a crack under a door, darkness filtered through in the same fashion. From beyond came a yell, “Deannael, I am here. Michael, I have come as you have summoned.”_  
  
_Just before Deannael followed his direction, he felt the warmth of that voice. Then he fell and gave up his grace as the firey weapon of heaven sealing out humanity from the garden. Deannael sat and looked into the garden, as a fallen angel he was basically human and could not pass through himself either. Instead, he looked through at the beautiful garden that he’d been responsible for._  
  
_He turned and rushed to catch up with Adam and Eve. He would till the earth and make it listen. He would be more stubborn than the ground beneath his feet. That’s how nature worked, patiently persistent._  
  
Dean awoke naturally and his headache had made itself scarce. It was nearing six-thirty. Without a thought to the strange, headache-induced dream, Dean stood and began to prepare the bunker for Krissy and Claire. He cleared out and cleaned two rooms. He put a spare laundry basket between their doors; he’d probably end up with the laundry that night.  
  
He couldn’t be mad about it, thought; he felt oddly at peace.  
  
\---  
  
The woman held out the metallic sphere with the Enochian markings. “I have something you were looking for.” She squatted, knees close, in her stilettoed shoes. She rolled it gently across the asphalt. “I suggest that Claire doesn’t touch it directly.” She stood again and waited.  
  
Krissy stopped the ball with the tip of the sword. The angel sword and the Enochian glowed where they touched.  
  
Taking heed of the advice despite not trusting her, Claire retrieved a shirt from her bag and scooped up the supernatural artifact. “What do you want from us?”  
  
Aloof, the woman flipped her hair over one of her perfect shoulders. “You’re heading to the axis mundi. I would like to accompany you. I carry no weapons, only knowledge.”  
  
Claire narrowed her eyes. “You think this makes me trust you?”  
  
“I should hope not. I’ve done nothing to prove my worth or my trustworthiness.” She began to click her heels and move closer. “I will sit in the back?”  
  
Krissy let the blade fall to her side. “You’ll sit in the passenger seat.” She let Claire complete the packing while she kept the sword close to her side and her eyes trained on the woman. Claire completed the last sweep over their protective sigils and their toothbrushes were tucked into their bags, having been forgotten at first.  
  
“What do we call you?” Krissy asked while Claire took the sword and climbed into the back seat.  
  
The woman approached the car and treated it reverently. “You mean a name?”  
  
Claire rolled her eyes from the bench seat, seatbelt pulled across her. “Yeah, a name. Krissy.” She pointed to Krissy. “Claire.” She gestured to herself. She then made a pointed look and directed her finger at the pretty woman in the passenger seat.  
  
“You can call me Kyra.” She smoothed her dress and legs before pulling the door closed softly.  
  
Krissy froze with the key in the ignition. “You’re Kyra.” She sent Claire a worried expression through the rearview mirror. It wasn’t a common name; and, it was definitely the name of one of the customers that had wanted the Enochian engraved object. Claire hugged it closer to her chest, over the sword lying there.  
  
Kyra grinned, open and happy, the apples of her cheeks glowing. “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God:
> 
>  


	5. A Tea Party

The light in the dash glowed, alerting them to a need for gas. Gabe was in the passenger seat looking out the window and bopping along to the music.  
  
Cas wasn’t entirely sure if he should be driving. Heck, Cas didn’t really remember switching seats. His head pounded. “We have to stop for gas.” He took the next turn off and found the rundown gas station. He pulled into the 3rd pump and put the car into park.  
  
He went to turn off the radio; but, it wasn’t on. The lights weren’t on and the power dial/volume control was turned to the far left. He grimaced at the radio. “There’s no music.”  
  
“Nope.” Gabriel smiled at him and continued to bop his head and pat his legs.  
  
Raising his gaze, Cas squinted his eyes at Gabriel. “You’re dancing, though.”  
  
In less time than a blink, Gabe had become completely still. He was not bopping along and his hands were flat and still on his thighs. “No I wasn’t. Come on, Cas.” He smacked him good naturedly in the shoulder with the back of his hand. “I want some beef jerky; do you want some beef jerky?”  
  
“No thank you.” Cas stiffly unbuckled his seat belt and unfolded himself from the car. His head still ached and his skin still didn’t feel right.  
  
Gabe raised an eyebrow. “You getting into make up?” He walked around the car and wiped the blood residue from where it had been left under Cas’ eyes, the browned halos wiping off without too much effort.  
  
Checking his reflection in the side mirror, Cas felt better being able to see himself. His eyes were sunken in and his cheeks were hollowed more than usual; but, without the blood, he looked much better, like an average sick person.  
  
He turned to the pump and selected the lowest grade.  
  
“Woah, woah. You were about to put that cheap ass gas into this car? No no no, you will not do that to her.” He elbowed Cas out of the way and selected the premium and snapped his fingers for the pump to start.  
  
Glowering, Cas shifted his stance to hold him better. Gabriel’s outburst made him feel a little better. It took him a long moment to figure out why. Dean. It was something Dean would say. Dean wouldn’t want Cas to fill Baby with a cheap grade of gasoline. The ache behind his temples eased and the tension between his shoulders released a little.  
  
He really wanted to see Dean. That was where they were going, right? He looked around trying to place himself. As an angel, he was better at doing that than humans. Dean was good at that too. He huffed a small laugh at the thought of Dean. The little laugh felt almost new compared to the days since he’d escaped Rowena and Crowley.  
  
He was watching the numbers on the dial rise and still trying to place himself in the world, how far he was from the bunker, how far he was from Dean; but he couldn’t get a good reading. The darkness was following them; nipping at their heels, really. It still had a disturbance in it, like an eye of a hurricane or something.  
  
Cas winced when something small hit his arm before falling into a puddle on the ground; strange, he hadn’t thought it had been raining. He smelled the air for petrichor but found no trace of it. He bent to ground and picked up what turned out to be a pack of nuts.  
  
“Got you a little something.” Gabriel reached through the open window and put two drinks and a plastic bag in the footwell. “Two sodas, some beef jerky, some chips,” he turned back to Cas, “Woah!” He lurched forward to take the nozzles from Cas.  
  
Gasoline was running down the side of the car and spraying back at Cas. It was all over his trench coat and shoes. Cas looked down and grimaced at the smell.  
  
Gabe replaced the pump and tapped the machine again to undo whatever he had done before. “I think that’s enough, Cassie.”  
  
Suddenly angry, Cas punched at the gas pump and damaged it severely. There were sparks from wires and leaking gas. “Why is this happening?”  
  
Before anything could blow up, Gabe righted it all in a snap of his fingers. He grasped Cas’ shoulders and held them tight. “It has to happen this way.” Cas felt when Gabe’s grace trickled over him and removed the gasoline from his clothes. “Now, let’s keep going. The Darkness is catching up.” He looked over his shoulder as if he’d be able to see it seeping over the horizon.  
  
Following his gaze, Cas almost though that he could.  
  
They got into the car, Gabe in the driver’s seat and Cas in the passenger’s seat with the drinks. Gabe sped away, leaving the poor gas station. “Pass me one of those, would ya?” He ticked a finger toward the sodas.  
  
Cas, feeling better and more right-headed than he had in a while, did it without question. He passed over a cherry Fanta. He lifted the other and inspected it. “I’d rather not have soda.”  
  
Wondering if Dean’s word of advice about illness also applied to angel-illness, Cas tried to recall what drinks Dean would make Sam drink when he was sick. Soda wasn’t one of the things. He thought hard about what Dean would give Sam; but, he still couldn’t think straight despite feeling a bit better.  
  
“Have this then and pass me the other one.” Gabe tossed the bottle back to Cas. Cas grappled around for it. He usually could catch things without looking, but whatever was wrong with him made him clumsy and very human. He looked at the label again; this time it was tea.  
  
He traded Gabe the other cherry Fanta and opened his tea; he figured that it was better than soda at least. The tea soothed his throat; he hadn’t even realized that it was ailing him. He looked back at the tea and idly wondered why.  
  
\---  
  
Krissy was still driving and they had passed the Kansas border a while back. The way Krissy was driving meant that they couldn’t be that far from the bunker. She was a speed demon. Well, maybe she shouldn’t use the word ‘demon’.  
  
The woman, Kyra, hadn’t tried anything. Claire wasn’t sure what to do; part of her thought it would be frowned upon to bring a stranger to the bunker but another part of her felt like this was okay. It was weird. She hadn’t felt this sort of calm since when she was very little, before he life went to shit on a pogo-stick.  
  
“You are fine, sweet child.”  
  
Claire jerked her eyes back up to the woman. The woman yawned and Claire mimicked just afterward. Yawning was too contagious for its own good. “What do you mean?”  
  
Face relaxing, Kyra offered a small smile. “I am not going to hurt anyone. I am just trying to put something right.” She turned to sit forward in her seat but continued to speak. “I am repaying the Winchesters for their troubles.”  
  
“So, you know them?” Krissy flicked her eyes over at the woman.  
  
Kyra shrugged. “In a way, yes.” She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. “I have been watching them for a long time; hoping that things would work out.” She shuddered a little. “I didn’t expect so many problems.”  
  
By the time they were rolling up to the bunker’s door, Claire’s headache had returned full force and her stomach was in knots, cramping and burning. She felt like she was sweating, but, there was not wet at her brow when she checked.  
  
Krissy and Kyra stepped from the vehicle. Opening the back door, Claire tried to cover her pain. She bit her lip and straightened up from her almost upright fetal position in the car. Something was really wrong.  
  
“Poor thing.” Kyra turned, flipping her hair over her tanned shoulder. She reached out and fixed one of Claire’s locks of hair. Immediately, relief trickled through Claire’s head from where that lock was attached at her scalp. “It’s almost over.”  
  
That could have been read as a threat, but Claire couldn’t fathom it as such. It sounded like a promise.  
  
Looking between them, Krissy’s eyebrows were peaked in a scowl. “I’ll call Sam. He should come out here and make sure this is okay. Last thing we need is to upset Dean.” She dug into her pocket and dialed Sam.  
  
She spoke quickly and lowly into the speaker. “Yes, we’re here.” “Yeah, but, we brought someone.” “I know, but-” “She helped us get the artifact.” “No, Claire has it.” Krissy turned a pointed look to Claire to ensure it was the truth.  
  
Nodding, Claire uncovered the top of the sphere to show Krissy that she indeed was holding it.  
  
“Alright, yeah.” When Krissy turned off the phone the door to the bunker opened and revealed Sam.  
  
Sam was wearing his bitchface. “Dean only cleared out two rooms.” He looked over Kyra skeptically; Claire couldn’t blame him. What was a pretty, auburn woman in a cocktail dress doing in the middle of the apocalypse.  
  
Just on the other side of the impala, black smoke struck the ground. Sam looked around at the sky. The air wasn’t tense so Claire knew it wasn’t the darkness.  
  
From the smoke, Crowley appeared. He looked over all of them before he caught eyes with Kyra. “You must be Kyra.” He crossed to her and took her hand. With a small bow, he kissed her hand. “It’s pleasure.”  
  
Claire backed away, still holding the sword, she drew it and with it some blood since she nicked her arm. “You’re working with Crowley?” She panted and her headache began to throb a new. “What is happening?” In frustration, she swiped the angel sword through the air and hit the ground with it. From where it hit the ground, grace-blue sparks flew. She felt a little better though.  
  
“Woah, woah. So your roll, blondie.” Crowley turned to her. “You have an angel sword and an angel cast; no need to go around destroying the universe or something.”  
  
Kyra turned to Crowley and raised an eyebrow. “She is also a holy vessel.”  
  
Expression suddenly scared, Crowley looked back to Claire frantic, hands held in a surrender. “In that case, how about you put the sword down? Have moose take it… or something?” His eyes were trained on the angel sword.  
  
Stepping forward, Sam took the hilt of the sword. He looked very confused, but, at this point, they all were.  
  
Huffing, Claire straightened up. The majority of the cramps in her abdomen subsided when Sam took the blade. She looked down at the artifact in her other hand; it was glowing grace-blue, the same shade as the sparks that had erupted earlier.  
  
Crowley turned on his heel. “We’re going to have unwanted company if we don’t get inside those sigils soon.” He gestured to the bunker. “Lead the way?” He lifted an eyebrow at Sam.  
  
Licking his lips, Sam didn’t move. It was like the obvious response was hanging in the air. Weren’t Kyra and Crowley unwanted guests?  
  
Rolling his eyes, Crowley blew a frustrated breath out of his nose. “We’re going to have violent unwanted company.”  
  
When Sam still didn’t move, Kyra strode forward to the door and pulled it open without the key. “Come now; we’ll sit and have a little chat. We’ll have tea.” She entered the bunker.  
  
Sam rushed after her, not wanting her to go unsupervised. Claire limped over and Krissy wrapped an arm around her waist to help her. Something about the promise of tea made Claire feel a little better. Her father used to make tea when things weren’t going so well. Financial trouble? Tea. Grandma died? Tea. You’re sick? Tea. It was a little slice of home that Claire clung onto inside of her.  
  
Following and closing the door tight behind them, Crowley muttered, “I’m British. I’m tired of tea.”  
  
\---  
  
“Sammy?” Dean poked his head out of the second room. His stomach had been progressively getting worse for the last two hours. It felt like the bloat he usually suffered after eating four burritos in one sitting. It would cramp and roll and tumble like he would throw up, but nothing ever came up. He called out again, “Sammy?”  
  
He was holding a stack of books he found in the room he had cleared for Krissy. While Dean understood how to find things in libraries, he didn’t know how to shelve things properly if they didn’t have the little number on them, which, of course, these didn’t have. “Dude? You need to put numbers on these for the library.”  
  
He entered the library and found Sam’s stuff still spread on the far table but no Sam.  
  
“Uh… Sam?” He spun around in the spot trying to see if Sam was in the shelves. After a preliminary look, he couldn’t find Sam’s head peeking up from the middle of any of the rows; he placed the books on the closest table.  
  
The keys were still hanging on the wall, so Sam couldn’t have gone far. The bunker’s latest security enhancement meant that nothing could get in. Well, they weren’t sure about The Darkness because that was new and exciting, but anything else was sure to hit a roadblock.  
  
He licked his lips then ground his teeth together, which didn’t help with his returning headache. He was trying not to turn into the crazy older brother which usually bubbled up when these sorts of things happened.  
  
Since he lost the mark, they had been trying to redefine some of the boundaries, Sam’s words not Dean’s. Sam was a grown ass man and he could take care of himself. Dean knew that, but he also saw little Sammy curled up in the back seat of the impala every time he looked into Sam’s hazel eyes.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. Sam probably when for a walk or was down in the gun range with protective ear-gear on like a wuss and unable to hear him call.  
  
As if the world knew Dean was about to lose his top if something didn’t happen soon, the bunker’s door opened and a women’s voice trickled through the crack. “Come now; we’ll sit and have a little chat. We’ll have tea.”  
  
Dean grimaced. Was Sam bringing his lady friends to the bunker now? Was that a thing? That had not been covered in their boundaries discussion. Dean didn’t have long to ponder it, though, because, when he saw her, something in his body broke.  
  
Like he was moved simply by what she looked like, his body fell forward and he knelt on one knee. Somewhere between more content than he had felt in a long time and confused over his own reaction, Dean swallowed.  
  
The woman responded, “I’m glad someone recognizes me.”


	6. Small Talk

Castiel ended up eating more beef jerky than he had planned. He had never liked the stuff. Even back in the times before refrigeration, Cas had stuck his nose up at the stuff. Gabriel had gotten some Jack Links Teriyaki Nugget things though, and they were much better than he’d ever expected.  
  
He had to keep constant pressure on the bridge of his nose from the pain radiating in his skull. It wasn’t his idea of a fun road trip. “Where are we going?”  
  
Gabe smirked. “Trying to stay ahead of the game, little bro. Keep the darkness behind up. Maybe, we’ll end up in Cali. We could watch girls in bikinis at the beach.” He ticked his eyes into the rearview mirror.  
  
Following the look, Cas glanced back over his shoulder. He could see the darkness following them. It was a large cloud of smoke. It reminded him of the demons flying around. Something about it felt wrong though, and Cas couldn’t quite place it.  
  
It was like it was… calling to him?  
  
\---  
  
Sam’s voice was the next sound to meet Dean’s ears. “Dean? Dean, are you okay?” He rushed over, his large footsteps loud and fast. He tried to pull Dean up from the ground, but Dean was suddenly heavy; he felt like he weighed a ton.  
  
“You may rise.” The woman spoke again.  
  
Dean did. Maybe he just hadn’t noticed it before, but when he looked at her this time she was holding a silver tray of old fashioned tea ware. Teacups were stacked in sets of three on one side and a plate of cookies was on the other. He was a little pissed at this whole situation, but he felt oddly serene at the same time. “What are you?”  
  
The woman strode over to the table, heels clicking on the floor, and set the tea set down. She looked up at Dean from under her lashes and grinned. “I just am.” She set out the tea cups and placed a napkin and cookie at each of the places. “Come, sit. We have to discuss this.” When she stood again, she yawned.  
  
Coming through the door were Claire and Krissy and… Crowley? Dean wasn’t in the mood for Crowley and his games. He watched as Crowley shut and locked the door behind him. Something in Dean fell, like he was expecting more people or someone else. It didn’t take him long to realize that he’d been hoping for Cas to walk in. Almost on autopilot, Dean took the first seat at the table. Sam followed suit.  
  
Soon, everyone was sitting at the table. Krissy scooted her chair, tea, and cookie closer to Claire. Dean wasn’t sure if it was because Claire was still hurting or because she wanted to be further away from Crowley. Dean shrugged, probably both.  
  
“Alright.” The woman took her seat across from them all and steepled her fingers. “Where should we begin?”  
  
Claire didn’t miss a bit. “How about the part where you’re working with this filth?” She spat it out and glared at Crowley.  
  
Part of Dean wanted to slap her on the back and tell her he was proud. He chuckled.  
  
Crowley bit back, “Look who’s calling me filth. I am a king.” His faces bloomed red.  
  
The woman tilted her head a little to one side. “Seems logical.”  
  
“Logical?!”  
  
Ignoring Crowley, the woman began to explain. “Crowley and I have a common enemy; as do we with you, The Darkness.” She looked to Sam and Dean. “Do you know what it is?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Dean cleared his throat. “All we can find is Genesis.”  
  
“Precisely.” The woman smiled. “Good work.” The way her cheeks dimpled reminded Dean of his mother’s smile. He felt his confusion seep away. “The Darkness is older than time. It was stored away back before humanity ever became what it is today. It was an angel dominion, gifted by God to an angel.” She sniffed. “You know the angels, at least?”  
  
Sam spoke first. “Oh, yeah, we’ve met them, bags of dicks, all of them.” He huffed and flipped his hair away from his chin.  
  
The conversation took Dean’s mind back to Cas. He wished Cas was there. Cas would have such a better grasp on what was going on. He’d explain it to Dean in great detail. He swallowed and played with the edge of his napkin. Where was Cas?  
  
The woman’s hand darted out to still Dean’s fidgeting. “You don’t agree?”  
  
Dean mouth moved but words didn’t come out at first. Finally, his breath moved enough for one word. “Cas.”  
  
Breaking into a brilliant smile, the woman nodded a little. “A profound bond, indeed.” She licked her lips. “I’m happy to have gotten it right.”  
  
“What?” Dean’s voice was mostly breath.  
  
“Crowley was in search of the great fallen angel.” She gestured to Crowley with her other hand. “He happened to find it.” She then pointed to the bundle that Claire was clutching to her stomach. “But, he couldn’t retrieve it, so he enlisted the help of the Angel Loress.” Her hand ticked up to Claire’s face.  
  
“Wait.” Krissy pointed to the bundle in Claire’s hands. “This has an angel in it?”  
  
The woman moved her head in an almost figure-eight motion. “Yes and no. A fallen angel’s grace is sealed inside.”  
  
Eyebrows rising, Crowley spoke in an almost awed voice. “Must’ve taken quite a bit of power to do that.”  
  
“Yes it did.” The woman sat back in her chair. “It took a hand much more powerful than any mortal. In fact, it took many of them. Michael, he is the leader of angels, possibly a mistake if one could be made.” She almost seemed regretful; she blinked slowly in reverence. “He tricked one of his least favorite brothers to do his job, falling and dispersing his grace onto the earth. Then, to ensure that the angel would not regain his grace, he ordered many, many, angels to seal it in this. Would you put it on the table for us, Claire?”  
  
With a scowl, Claire swallowed but did as she was asked to do. She put the bundle on the table and unwrapped it carefully. “Happy?”  
  
“I am never happy.” The woman offered a warm smile despite her words. “Crowley, you wanted to find this, why?”  
  
Sassy as ever, Crowley crossed his arms over his chest. “You know why.”  
  
“Humor me.” The woman spoke back firm.  
  
Crowley huffed and his arms fell away. “All I know is that the angel with dominion over the darkness had a pair and that pair was the one locked away in that.” He jabbed a critical finger at the Enochian-chiseled sphere. “The best way for that angel to be able to regain its dominion is with the help of its pair.” He rolled his eyes. “Or so the texts say.”  
  
“A pair?” Sam looked between Crowley and the woman. “What’s a pair?”  
  
Speaking first, Crowley cut off whatever the woman was going to say, “Angels were made with a perfect other half. Blah, blah, think angel soul mates.”  
  
“Oh,” was all Sam responded with.  
  
Dean laughed. “No such thing.” He leaned back in his chair. “No one can have a perfect other half.” Everyone looked at him like he’d grown another head. “What?” he asked with an incredulous feeling.  
  
“I think they’re making that face because you are the one person in the room that knows it the best.” The woman spoke softly.  
  
The moment ended and no one knew where to look, so eyes settled everywhere from the artifact to the woman to the shelves. The woman yawned again, “We haven’t much time; The Darkness is nearly upon us.” She brought her tea cup to her lips and took a sip.  
  
Taking it as a go ahead, Dean picked up his. “Bottom’s up.” He raised it like a shot glass and knocked it back with a sigh. He licked his lips at the flavor. He then picked up and ate the tiny cookie in one bite.  
  
Crowley followed suit but only nibbled on the cookie. Claire and Krissy seemed to like it and asked politely for more which was granted.  
  
“You like this?”  
  
Dean turned to Sam who was making faces at his cup. He glared at the tea.  
  
Shrugging, Dean looked at everyone else who seemed to enjoy it.  
  
The woman spoke to Sam. “It’s an acquired taste for some.” Putting her tea down and nibbling on her cookie, she put out a hand and it hovered over the sphere. “May I?”  
  
Claire shrugged and wrinkled her nose at the thing. “You’re the one who got it away from Michael.”  
  
The woman almost dropped the sphere when Sam yelled, “Michael’s out of the cage?”  
  
Blinking and regaining her calm, the woman looked up. “Where do you think the darkness was?”  
  
“But that means-”  
  
Crowley’s hand landed on Sam’s shoulder. “Yes, Moose, big bad glow stick is out, too.”  
  
Laughing, Dean clutched his stomach in humor and cramp-like pain. “You see, that’s funny because Lucifer is the Morning Star.”  
  
Sam only grimaced and shook Crowley’s hand off. He tried the tea again with only a look of mild displeasure.  
  
The woman put the sphere in front of her then looked to Sam. “May I have the sword please?”  
  
Still skeptical, Sam looked around to see what everyone thought. Dean just glared at him and wondered what was so inherently different between he and his brother that he didn’t realize that this woman was no threat.  
  
“Quickly,” she said through another yawn.  
  
Sam handed it over.  
  
She placed the sword on the table and looked at the two objects. “The sword that struck the earth and sealed away the Garden of Eden and the Grace of the angel that did it.” She nodded.  
  
Dean smirked. “So, what? You going to magically become an angel now?” He grinned, light-hearted.  
  
“No.”  
  
“No?” Dean’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “You mean, we have to find the angel husk too? That’s a stupid plan. We’d don’t have time for that, uh – uh, what’s your name?”  
  
She smiled. “Kyra and no, we don’t have to go looking.” She slid the objects in front of Dean. “I’m looking forward to welcoming you back as an angel.”  
  
Dean outright laughed; he guffawed. “I -,” he panted, “I am not an angel. Sorry, Kyra, wrong guy.” He looked around and his eyes stuck on Crowley. His jaw was slack and his eyes were wide. “What?”  
  
Shaking his head, Crowley sipped at his tea again. “It makes sense; he is the righteous man.”  
  
The room went silent.  
  
“I was born of Mary Winchester.” Dean insisted.  
  
“Dean, we know that angels are born of humans when they fall. It’s not that big of a jump.” Sam kept at his tea, obviously liking it more than at first. “I mean, you are really good at hunting. You knew when Gabriel was an angel; you recognized him.”  
  
The woman stood, “Speaking of Gabriel, we don’t have much time.”  
  
“Yeah, you’re a broken record.” Dean snipped back.  
  
From the other end of the table, Claire slapped her hand on the table. “Just do it, Dean.”  
  
Dean made a face at her; but, her words struck something. It was like it was Cas’ voice, which didn’t make sense. Claire was Jimmy’s daughter, but they all knew that Cas used a particularly different voice than his vessel’s. Whatever it was, a trick of his ears or a moment of destiny, Dean listened.  
  
Picking up the two objects Dean winced, but nothing happened. He raised his eyebrows at his company. “Told you, I’m not your guy.”  
  
Just as he said that a whisper trickled into him from the sphere, he stared at it.  
  
“What?” he said aloud.  
  
This time he heard it. ‘Ask me.’  
  
Dean felt so stupid, but, oh well, that happened a lot. “Will you come back to me?”  
  
In a voice much like his own, he heard a pronounced, ‘Hell, yes.’  
  
The last thing Dean heard before a searing pain and whiter-that-white light engulfed him was some yelling, “Cover your eyes.”  
  
\---  
  
“We’re here.” Gabe slowed to a stop and up the car in park. He turned to Cas. “Make up or not, the show must go on.”  
  
Cas was confused. He opened his door and looked around. They were still a ways from the bunker and all that they could see where corn fields. Well, cornfields and a huge black cloud approaching from the horizon. “Why are we here?”  
  
“You know how I went in search of God?” Gabe asked over his shoulder, entering the corn field.  
  
Cas followed swiping his hands to move the corn stalks out of the way. “Yeah.”  
  
They emerged into what could only be considered a huge crop circle. “Well,” he cocked his head and squinted one eye, “you could say that I found her.”  
  
“And you’re only telling me this now?” Cas’ voice rose to a pitch just about human hearing.  
  
Gabe threw up his hands in a gesture between ‘don’t hurt me’ and ‘stop that’. “Hey, easy. I’m just doing what God told me to do.”  
  
Cas rolled his eyes. “Really? Why dod I find that hard to believe?”  
  
Shrugging, Gabe swaggered around in a circle, exaggerated frown pulling on his face, “Oh, I don’t know; maybe because I’ve betrayed you in the past and haven’t been a very good pillar for honestly.”  
  
“Now, that you mention it-”  
  
“Yes, Cassie, but this time you’ll just have to trust me.” He grabbed hold of Cas’ shoulders and turned him around to see the approaching black cloud. “It’s time for your intro solo,” he said before fwoomping away, leaving Cas alone in a cornfield staring into the face of The Darkness.


	7. Commercial Break

Gabriel sat in a chair wearing a purple, plaid waistcoat and swirling a scotch in his hand. There was a fireplace crackling softly. “Did you think that you were going to get to know the ending that easily? Well, TOO BAD!” He smirked.  
  
He stood and crossed the room to retrieve a large book from the book shelf. “I’m here to tell you the story. Otherwise, I’m pretty sure none of this makes sense.”  
  
Flipping to a page, he stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, concentrating. “Ah-ha!” He ran a finger down the page. “So, this is the boring version, which I don’t agree with. It has a lot of “Then God said’s and a lot of ‘Michael then decreed’s and that’s just not how you sell a story.”  
  
He left the book open on his lap and reached for a music stand. Since the music stand was just barely out of his reach, he glared at it then picked up the book and stood from the red armchair. He dragged the music stand closer and plopped back down. “People seem to think I have long arms. Well, I don’t.”  
  
Propping the book on the stand, he repositioned himself in the chair. “Alright then.” He crossed his outstretched ankles. “Once upon a time, there was moi.” He brought a hand palm-up to his chin, like a woman in a skin care commercial showing of her flawless skin.  
  
“I am one of seven archangels. You know the most popular in our little band. Me, uh, duh. There’s Raphael.”  
  
A picture of Raphael flashed. In the picture, Raphael was fighting with long blonde hair and wielding a sword.  
  
“There’s Lucifer.”  
  
Cutting to a picture of Lucifer, there was a beautiful, almost-bronze-haired angel with a Romanesque figure shouting at the heavens. He was waving a sword at the skies.  
  
“And you probably know about Michael.”  
  
Suddenly, there was a picture of an angel covered in armor leading an army. He didn’t have his sword drawn, but it was there, sheathed at his belt.  
  
Gabriel appeared again in the study-like room with a green ascot tucked into his neck. “Dad gave everyone swords. Well, everyone except me. I got a horn, probably because I’m the most annoying or something.” He glared to the side of the room.  
  
The camera panned to what looked like an ordinary horn sitting on a stand on the floor. The camera returned to Gabriel. He shrugged.  
  
“Anyway. Let’s take a headcount.” When he said the names of each of the archangels, their picture flashed again. “Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, moi.” The camera flashed back to him. He extended the next three fingers and wiggled them around a bit. “Ah, if my math isn’t rusty, I’d say we’re missing a few.”  
  
The camera cut to Gabriel peaking into a stone tomb. “Are they in here? Nope.” He waved inside. “Oh, hey, Jesus.”  
  
The camera cut to Gabriel in the Sistine Chapel. “Are they in here? Nope.” He pointed to the famous mural of God creating Adam. “Oh, hey, I remember that.” One of the tourists in the background took his picture and the flash went off.  
  
Before the flash completed, the camera cut to Gabriel with a box of Lucky Charms emptying it onto the floor of the cereal aisle. “Are they in here? Nope.” He grabbed a handful. “But, it sure is good to eat.” He approached the camera holding a marshmallow up between his thumb and forefinger. “These things are just incredible.”  
  
The camera cut back to him in his chair in the study. This time, additionally, he wore a monocle. He was still chewing the marshmallow from before. “This begs the question…” He stood from the chair and raced across the room; the camera followed him. He unhooked the deer-stalker hat from antler coat hook by the door and slapped it on his head. He turned back to the camera, and the camera zoomed in. “… who are the other archangels?”  
  
Gabriel strode forward and whispered to the camera. “Nobody knows.”  
  
The camera cut to Gabriel with a red sharpie writing in the book on the music stand. “Correction, nobody knew.”  
  
The camera cut back to Gabriel’s nose almost pushed to the lens. “But, I know,” he whispered, fogging up the lens.  
  
He stepped away and wiped the lens with his sleeve. “But, as it would turn out, we didn’t know because we’ve never seen them as bright and shining archangels. We’ve only seen their understudies.” He straight-legged marched back to the armchair and sat down. “Now, I need to keep a few of the secrets to myself; but, as you may have guessed it, Cassie is an archangel.”  
  
The camera cut to Gabriel in a blonde, braided-pigtail wig and a blue sundress looking off camera. He spoke mockingly horrified. “What? Who could’ve guessed? Oh, the plot twist.”  
  
Returning to the shot before, Gabriel nodded in seriousness. “It is true. Castiel is actually…”  
  
A picture of godstiel as a tabloid cover with the main headline _Is Castiel Really Leading A Double Life As A Lowly Seraph And An Archangel?_ flashed across. From behind the picture, Gabriel sing-songed, “~Cassiel~~.”  
  
He cleared his throat and the camera cut back to him. This time, Gabriel had a pipe in his hand. “So, really, this is just the story about me and my buddy, God, getting the band back together.”  
  
Another picture flashed. This picture was of One Direction with the Raphael’s, Michael’s, Lucifer’s, and Castiel’s faces pasted on their heads. Gabriel’s head was seemingly floating bodiless off to the side.  
  
The camera cut to Gabriel sitting on the floor with magazine scraps, a gluestick, and scissors. He was glaring down at his work. “Since when are there only four members in One Direction?” He looked around a little. “Where’s the hot one?” He deflated. “I was gonna be the hot one.”  
  
Cutting one final time, the camera settled on a blurry Gabriel in the armchair. The focus changed, and Gabriel was no longer fuzzy. “So,” he raised a remote control and pointed it at the camera, “let’s get back to the feature presentation.” He smirked and pressed a button.  
  
The screen went black.


	8. The Final Act

Claire squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the warmth to pass. It hit her like it would if she were entering a sauna, straight from the front, like mist hitting her face. It eased her headache, the radiating warmth; but, it soon was over and she had to open her eyes.  
  
Standing before her was Dean Winchester wide-eyed and blinking. “Well, that happened.”  
  
The room was silent, but everyone was looking at one thing, Dean’s wings. They were upright behind him, the knuckle-like part reaching almost a foot above his head.  
  
Dean bounced his shoulders up and down and shimmied a bit. “I don’t feel any different.” He wrinkled his nose.  
  
Clearing his throat, Crowley stepped forward. “Your wings say otherwise.”  
  
“My-?” Dean spun around himself trying to see his wings, but they remained tucked into his back. They were almost pearlescent, glowing softly all of the colors of the rainbow. Claire had to hold back a giggle behind her hand.  
  
A knock at the door called everyone’s attention elsewhere. Sam strode past everyone; the skin on his forehead stretched taught between his spread eyebrows in what was turning into permanent surprise. He pulled the door open. “Yes?”  
  
Pushing him aside, a short fellow with bronzed hair entered. He hopped down the stairs and jumped down the last few. He looked up and spread his arms. “Weren’t expecting me, were ya?” He grinned.  
  
“Yeah, because you’re supposed to be dead.” Dean said in a scarily low tone.  
  
The short man’s face contorted into faux hurt. “Aww, don’t be that way, ‘lil’ Deano.” He put a hand over his heart. “You wound me.” Hurt falling away in less than a second, he clapped his hands. “So, is everyone up to date?”  
  
Crowley held his pointed finger up. “I feel like I’m missing who exactly Dean is; I’ve read many of the manuscripts and don’t recall any other angels.”  
  
“Ah-ha! And you,” the short man rocked forward on the balls of his feet and pointed to Crowley, “would be right. But, Deano, here, isn’t just some angel.” He half-skipped around Crowley and picked up the sword that Dean must’ve let go of when he accepted the grace. He held it up for Crowley to see, before turning and putting it into Dean’s hand. “He’s an archangel.”  
  
Mouth open and breathing out a pant, Sam looked as if he were physically trying to catch up. “I am so…” He shook his head. “I don’t even know where to begin.”  
  
When Claire turned around from the newcomer, she was met by a spilt tea cup. Kyra was nowhere to be seen. She voiced her discovery, “Where’s Kyra?”  
  
“Probably sleeping in the clouds again.” The short man turned to her. “Oh, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Gabriel, Archangel and Horny.” He smiled to himself and smacked a hand to his forehead, “I mean, horn-blower. I’m the one that uses the Gabriel horn that you wrote about on your sight.”  
  
Claire wasn’t sure about taking the man’s hand, but she had been taught manners so she did. She was grateful that there was only a squeeze and a tug before their hands parted. “Okay,” was all she said in response.  
  
Introducing himself to Krissy too, Gabriel then stepped back and pointed at them both, “So, which one of you is the spare vessel for Cassie?” His eyes glittered.  
  
Claire shared a look with Krissy, but neither responded to Gabe.  
  
“Why are you asking?” Sam raised his chin in a defiant manner at the man. His eyes were hard and he had an almost-sneer tugging at his features. If Claire had to guess, she’d say that Gabriel and Sam had history, like bad history.  
  
Gabriel shook his head. “We’re about to go to angel war, baby.” He let his stance melt into something more resembling of a sane small man. “We’re calling in all the reserves.” He was wearing the face of a soldier instead of a kid show host. When he frowned, sharp angles appeared and seriousness exuded from him. It almost caused whiplash.  
  
“Does that mean Moose is going to be someone’s flesh suit, too?” Crowley’s head bobbed from side to side, like the sass was literally trying to escape through his skull.  
  
Standing suddenly, Sam looked down at Gabriel. He was silent but his eyes were pleading. Sam shook his head, minute and small little jerks.  
  
With his head held low, Gabriel turned to Sam straight on. “ALL of the reserves.”  
  
“Um, no.” Dean shook his head. He had one of his arms wrapped around his torso trying to touch his wing and the other back behind his head attempting to accomplish the same thing. “Lucifer is not riding Sam into this.” His voice was fierce and his eyes were worse.  
  
Claire’s headache grew worse and Dean brought one of his hands to his head.  
  
Crowley looked between Claire and Dean. “It’s getting worse. Something is about to go wrong with Castiel.”  
  
“Buh- how do you know?” His eyes searched over the form of his brother, not-brother, angel-brother; and over Claire.  
  
Whatever was going on, she agreed with Crowley. Her skin was beginning to crawl and get unbearably hot. The heat in her face and head made her eyes want to close.  
  
“Doesn’t matter how I know.” Crowley rasped. “What matters is that I’m right.” As if it were reason enough, he added, “I’m Crowley.” He looked so undignified. When everyone still glared at him and didn’t believe him, he glowered and spoke again, “Ever heard of a fallen angel named Crowley? No, good, then forget about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
If Claire’s head hadn’t been pounding, she would have rolled her eyes.  
  
“We need Lucifer right now.” He spoke low and even, like he was trying to reason with the unreasonable. “He’s the only being that might be able to stop whatever Michael has planned.”  
  
Sam pulled a bitchface. “And, why is that exactly?”  
  
Somewhere in the back of Claire’s head, something clicked. “Because Lucifer is Michael’s pair.” She blinked against the ache in her head. “I’m right, aren’t I?”  
  
Face donning the creepy, dorky smirk, Gabriel turned to her. “That’s the ticket, Claire the Spare.”  
  
\---  
  
The Darkness was almost upon him when Michael fwooped in. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” He had to yell to be heard over the howling that the cloud made.  
  
“What do you want, Michael?” Cas kept his eyes trained on the oncoming Darkness. He swallowed the lump in his throat. His insides felt like putty in a hardened exoskeleton of a man.  
  
Michael snapped a lawn chair into existence and sat. “Just trying to get a front row seat.”  
  
“Front row seat to what?” Castiel narrowed his eyes into slits at Michael.  
  
“Just the showdown of the century.”  
  
Castiel groaned. “You will also be in the midst of The Darkness. You should leave and be safe.”  
  
Michael put one of his ankles on the opposite knee, like he were watching a primetime show aft home in his recliner. “I was in the Darkness, in the Cage with the Darkness, for a long time Castiel,” he heavily enunciated each vowel of his name, “I am sure that I can stand another few seconds, long enough to see you destroyed.”  
  
The rage and anger that seemed to be bursting at the seams inside of Castiel flowed out again. He shouted, “What have I ever done to you?!?” Castiel balled his hands into fists but could not find the strength to move. “What do you have against me?” His eyes were wide and filled with a strong emotion, somewhere between betrayal and anger.  
  
Standing from his lounge chair, Michael crossed the beaten down corn to be in Castiel’s face. “Father loved you enough to make you a true pair.” He spat, droplets of his spit sprayed into Cas’ nostrils. He stalked away.  
  
Cas’ eyes followed him. “You are mistaken. I have no pair.”  
  
“Yes you do.” Michael threw his hands in the air. “Of course you do. Every angel has a pair Castiel. You-,” he turned and pointed a finger at him, “you just don’t remember yours.”  
  
Licking his lips, Cas’ blocks were coming down. He was looking at someone who looked so much like Dean and yet nothing at all like him. It was like Michael was not only mocking him for his pairless state but also by wearing a human so similar to Castiel’s favorite charge.  
  
“Why do you think you yearn for him? Why do you think you share that ‘profound bond’?” Michael even deemed it necessary to use the air quotes. “Why do you think the world keeps putting the two of you together?”  
  
Cas’ breathing had picked up. He was ragged and he didn’t want to be hearing this right now. He wanted to go to Dean all over again. He wanted to be with him. “He isn’t an angel, though.” Castiel tried to think of a loop hole, anything in his knowledge or in the lore that would mean that an angel could have a human pair. Nothing stood out in his mind.  
  
Michael, having rounded back to Castiel’s space, tapped two fingers to his forehead. Tap, tap. “That’s because you don’t remember it. You don’t remember when he was an angel.” He made the same gesture to his own forehead. Tap, tap. “I do.”  
  
Bearing his teeth, Cas sunk into his knees and readied to pounce on Michael. He had come to terms with being reset, to being reset numerous times even; but to be told that he had been rewired to the point that he couldn’t even remember his pair…? It made him furious.  
  
Suddenly, Michael was pulled back by two rough hands. “Hey, Cassie, sorry for leaving you there. I had to get the rest of the X-men.” Gabriel nodded his head to something over Cas’ shoulder.  
  
When Castiel turned to see, he was first struck with the fact that Crowley was there and that made his nose scrunch up in distaste. Then, he noted Claire’s presence.  
  
“Why would you bring Claire here? It’s not safe. I want her to be safe.” He whirled to Gabriel. Cas’ temper was no longer under control. It was the effects of whatever was happening to him. It was a side-effect or something.  
  
Gabriel hopped back almost a full two feet. “Woah, I swear, ‘lil’ bro, we have a plan.”  
  
“You and who.”  
  
“God if you could believe it.” The sparkling in Gabriel’s eyes meant that Cas wasn’t sure if he was lying or telling the truth; either way, he was stopped dead by the mention of God.  
  
The small reprieve from thinking and from the pain gave Cas a moment to collect himself. He blinked a few times and twitched his fingers. He felt the right size in his vessel for the first time in days. When he tried to turn, he found Claire’s hand bundled in the back of his trench coat. He ripped it from her hold and spun around to hold her.  
  
She was shaking. Upon closer examination, so was he. “We can do this together, you know?” Claire gasped. “I’ve felt your hurt for the last few days. You had me worried.”  
  
“Because you were once my vessel.”  
  
Nodding, she lifted a weak hand to point at Gabriel. “At least, that’s what that weirdo said.”  
  
“I’m not a weirdo.” Gabriel looked offended.  
  
Cas shrugged. “Yes you are.”  
  
“Would a weirdo bring you a gift like that?” He pointed to a spot beyond Claire.  
  
Following the point, Cas almost gasped. Dean was standing there. He was standing there with wings. Thoughts and memories flooded back into him and his grace leapt at the chance to see Dean.  
  
Claire gagged a bit. “I did not need to feel those feelings, ever. Not ever.” She cringed in her own skin.  
  
Unable to feel sad for her, Cas continued to watch Dean. He was standing to the side, unassuming and worried. He had wings, too. Cas had flashes of memories of those wings. They were beautiful, shone like the sun if you could see the hints of color in the white light it exuded. That was true, though; Dean was like the sun.  
  
When Dean finally looked up from the ground, his eyes caught Cas’. He rushed over; he was a little off balance from the wings. Cas grinned a little; eventually, Dean would learn to conceal his wings like most full grown angels.  
  
Dean stopped a few paces away. His hand came up to the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “I, uh, I’m sorry about, uh, I’m sorry about in the library the last time I-?” His green eyes flicked up to Cas’. In their pits was more apology than Cas had ever seen Dean give, ever. “I’m sorry.” It was like a whisper just for Cas.  
  
Launching forward, Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and held him. It was like a small piece of what was missing was finally replaced.  
  
Pulling away, the howling became almost unbearable and they were all suddenly consumed by it. If Cas hadn’t been touching Dean and Claire, he would have lost them, despite being practically in their space.  
  
“Okay,” Dean yelled over the wind. “We got the short version, but the idea is that you can absorb this just like when you absorbed purgatory and the Leviathan.”  
  
“How?” Castiel wasn’t sure which vessel he used, Jimmy’s or Claire’s. He was stretching to the limit.  
  
Shaking him a little, Dean’s fingers tightened. “However you did last time.”  
  
Focusing, Cas took a long breath through both of his mouths and began to do just that.  
  
\---  
  
Dean couldn’t believe that it had worked. He ended up holding Cas with one arm and Claire in the other, but there was no more big black mess of a cloud swirling around with its impending doom. So, that was a plus.  
  
Running forward, Krissy and Gabe took Claire so that Dean could focus on Cas who was beginning to open his eyes. His eyes were still blue but so much darker.  
  
“Hey, buddy.” Dean stroked his free hand over Cas’ stubble.  
  
Cas looked around. “Don’t call me buddy anymore.” His voice sounded harsher than normal, instead of gravel it was full-on shards of glass.  
  
Swallowing, Dean kept petting Cas’ face and amended his statement. “Okay, baby.” The word fit so well, his big, black Impala and his big, bad angel pair.  
  
Cas stood. He turned his head to one side and popped the bones there. He did the same with his wings, bringing them onto the 3-dimensional plane long enough to stretch them. They were inky black, the exact opposite of Dean’s.  
  
Finger’s twitching to touch them, Dean watched as Cas turned to a surprised Michael. “Miss me, brother?”  
  
Michael turned to fly away, to flee, but Sam stalked up past them. Dean knew it wasn’t Sam, anymore; Lucifer walked more like a doll than Sam did. “Not so fast.”  
  
Freezing, Michael turned to see Lucifer. His eyes were fighting between showing relief and fear.  
  
“We have much to talk about,” Lucifer spoke with a final sort of tone.  
  
Michael’s eyes grew wider.  
  
“Much,” Lucifer promised.  
  
Kind of like fireflies escaping a child’s mason jar, the angels sprang from Sam and Adam. They both stared at each other for a long moment before grimacing and gagging.  
  
“I know how you feel.” Claire’s voice rose above the rest.  
  
And everyone ended up laughing, maybe even God, where she was taking her rest again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may end up adding an epilogue... but, not tonight. :]
> 
> Me: [cockleddean.tumblr.com](cockleddean.tumblr.com)
> 
> Tell me what you think, pleeeeeeaaaaassssseeeee... (especially about the Gabriel part /hehehehehe)

**Author's Note:**

> me: [cockleddean.tumblr.com](cockleddean.tumblr.com)


End file.
